On Top
by sorahart
Summary: He had it all. He had money, power, fame! Yet there she stood, wearing filthy clothes and practically begging for change... and she was happy. How? How could someone who has nothing be so happy? He was going to find out.


I had it all. I had the money, the power, the fame… and then the damn Boy Scout comes in and just like that, it's all gone! All of it! Next thing I know I'm in a cell, with some tattooed brute trying to spoon with me! Now I'm out. I broke out of prison, it wasn't hard. Not for someone with my intellect. Intellect. The only thing I have left, the only thing I need to get back on top! And I will get back on top. I have to. I have to win. Because if I lose, _he _wins, and I can never let that happen. Never.

I'm on the streets now, the same filthy streets the common people walk. Disgusting. I bought some clothes, I had enough money stashed in one of my old safe houses. Clothes from some crappy little mom and pop store, some place run by pot smoking hillbillies who I knew wouldn't recognize me. Nothing fancy, I couldn't draw attention to myself. Just a hat, some cheap sunglasses, some pants, a shirt, and a coat. Its getting cold this time of year.. The shirt was plaid. I hate plaid. I hate people who wear plaid. Once I'm back on top, I be sure to have every store that sells plaid clothing shut down, just for the miserable couple of hours I had to spend walking around in it, looking like common filth.

These dirty middle class idiots all lumber past me with stupid smiles on their faces. I want to kill all of them. Why did I spend so much on that presidential campaign? I could have just hung up some pretty lights by my house, and these mongrels probably would have voted for me because they were too distracted by them to find out who else was running!

Some old granny bumps into me, shaking and smelling like prune juice. She looks up at me with some wrinkled up moronic grin and says, "Sorry young man." _Sorry. _She says sorry and expects it all to just go away, like she hadn't just bumped into me, defiling my superior body with her decrepit, unintelligent filth. Like that all just goes away, because she said _sorry. _I want to rip her apart. I want to tell her how she should go sit in her dumpy little apartment and rot to death so her forty cats can eat her corpse. But I don't, because I can't draw attention to myself. So instead I just keep walking.

Once I'm back on top, I'll make sure all those shaky old bats get gunned down in the streets and ground up for fertilizer. If they can't function in society, why should society keep them? Only the strong survive. And only the smart win. I'm the strongest, I'm the smartest, but do they look up to me? No, they look at me like I'm just another one of _them_, all because _he _stole my glory from me. The Boy Scout from Krypton. He came to my planet with no right to do so, and stole my honor. My fame. That sickening alien perfection, that smug little smile he gives because he knows we can't compete.

Maybe when I kill him, I'll give the same damn smile, in the knowing that I'll never have to see his again. But first, I have to get back on top. I have to take this step by step.

I'm about to head for a bank, I'll set up a new identity. I still have connections. I'll make a new name, get a place to live, and set my plans in motion. But before I turn, I see her. It's a girl, twelve or thirteen years old. She's standing on the corner of the street, at first I think she's a young hooker or something, but then I see the can.

She's got a tin can in her hands, holding it out to people and asking for change. Not demanding, asking. Asking all nice and sweetly. Pathetic. If you want to get anywhere in the world, you have to be aggressive. She's poor, that's obvious. Scarily thin, long brown hair, deep brown eyes, her clothes are filthy. A simple pink t-shirt that looked like she had pulled it out of the trash, and a pair of white shorts, just the same. She coughed now and then. She was getting sick.

But she's smiling. This poor little girl, standing on the street begging for change, looking she'd crawled out of a gutter, getting dirty looks from people passing her by, insults at her family, she's pathetic. But she's standing there _smiling_. It's a genuine smile, not a fake one. How? How can someone so bad off be so happy?

Why was she happy? And why wasn't I? She's standing there, happier than I ever was. I had everything. I had money, power, fame, intelligence, health, and she has nothing! How the hell is she happier than me? Why? Why can someone with nothing be happy, when the man with everything can't? It isn't fair. It's illogical. No, it's flat out senseless. Can she really be that naïve that she doesn't understand she has nothing to be happy for?

…

I followed her home. I had to. I had to understand this happiness… I had to know what it was that allowed her to smile. I needed to know why someone who has nothing, nothing at all, could be happier than me!

Her house is a shithole. Small, probably only two or three rooms! White, the paint is peeling. There are candles inside; they don't appear to have electricity. Probably can't afford it. I look in through the window, I have to. I can't resist. She's not the only child in the house. There are two younger ones, one a toddler, one a baby. They both seem sick too, but fed a bit better than her. She must make sure they get food first.

On the couch is a woman, their mother. She's clearly sick. Very sick. She's ridiculously thin, coughing up a storm. She's pale, and looks like she's on the verge of death. I can tell by grim atmosphere that she's been sick a long time. Probably won't get better. She looks like she's in pain. They probably can't afford the medical procedures needed to help her.

The girl is in the living room, taking care of the two younger children. It appears she does that a lot. The baby was crying. "I'm sorry Charlie, we don't have food right now." She said in a sweet voice, but a sad one.

It was raining pretty heavily now. I'd been so focused on watching them that I didn't even notice. I'm getting soaked, still baffled by how she still looks happy. Having to watch her mother die, having to take care of her siblings, going without food, no electricity, nothing. How can she possibly be happy? But she puts the baby to bed with a smile. Another damn smile!

A man walks in through the front door, a tall man. The father. "Find any work dad?" The girl asked hopefully. The father shook his head in a sad manner.

"Its tough around here baby girl. I'm not really qualified for anyone that's hiring, and we certainly can't afford for me to go back to school now." He walked over to the mother, and she spoke to him a voice so weak and sickly that I couldn't even hear it.

"It's alright dear, things will get better. I don't know when, but I promise they'll get better." The father said in a reassuring tone. And they were all still _smiling. _How are these people, with their lives so miserable, happier than me? It doesn't make sense! I punch the wall in frustration, not even realizing how much noise it would make.

"Can I help you sir?" The father was suddenly saying, looking at me through the window with suspicion in his eye.

"Um… no, I – I was just looking at something." I tell him. _He doesn't recognize me. Of course he doesn't recognize me; he doesn't even have a TV!_

I realize how much I must look like one of them, a poor person. I'm soaking wet, wearing hobo clothes and shivering my ass off. He looks at me with what seems like pity. I hated that. But at the same time… some feels _sorry _for me, I thought. That felt… warm. It was strange.

"Would you like to come inside sir? Until the rain stops, at least?"

"That… that would be nice." I said, a little confused. But this was good. I would be able to observe their happiness from up close, that might help figure it out.

"What's your name pal?" He asks.

"Luthor." I say, acting like it's a first name. He buys that.

We sit by the coffee table. The kids are asleep now, except for the girl. She's staring at me. I wonder if she recognizes from the street earlier. Why did they invite me in? Why would they show kindness like that, with nothing in return? They thought I was as poor as them, so obviously they weren't in it for money. I didn't understand.

"You have a place to live, Luthor?" He asks.

"Yes." I reply. "It's just… far away from here."

"Well, you're lucky." He sighs. "We might not have this place much longer."

"Why not?"

"Can't pay the rent. We can barely afford to eat a couple times a week. I've been out of work for a while now, and my wife Caroline… she's sick. Very sick."

"Have you been to a doctor?"

"Once, but we can't afford the operation she needs. She's still hanging on, but… if we don't come across more money soon, I don't think she has much time left."

"I see." I nod at his story. How can this spawn happiness? This is suffering!

We talk a while longer. His name is John. The girls name is Marianne. They're miserable, as far as the condition of their lives go… but I still haven't found any inclination as to why their still happy. I don't get it.

The mother wants to sleep, and we all say prayer together. I didn't like that, I've never prayed before and I had no interest in starting. But maybe that was it. Maybe their faith brought them a little happiness, no matter how much their condition sucked. It was the best theory I had come up with so far.

The rain lets up a few hours later, and I head out to leave. I'm still puzzled at how these people can be so kind. As I'm heading out the door, Marianne stops me. "Wait a minute, I wanted to thank you." She said.

"Thank me for what?" I asked.

"For being nice to me and my family." She said warmly. "Most people aren't, most people make fun of us because we don't have as much money as they do. So thanks for being so nice, sir."

That odd, warm feeling hits me again. That was it? She was thankful just because I was _nice_? That was all it took? Her mother was dying, they had no food, they would soon be out on the street, she had to take care of her two siblings all by herself, and she was thanking me… for being nice. Ridiculous!

"Um… you too." I say uncomfortably. I start to leave again, but then stop. I need to ask, the question is killing me. "Excuse me… but, how can you still… smile?"

"What?" She looks confused.

"How are you happy? You're life is crap; you must be old enough to understand that! Why are you so happy?"

She smiled like I had just asked the simplest question she had ever heard. "I guess I'm just happy that we could make you happy. I liked helping you out tonight, sir.'

I froze in my place. That was it? Being kind to a total stranger made them happy? When I did nothing for them, when their life was so terrible, just showing me kindness made them happy in return?

I'm paralyzed in shock, staring down at her. Then I let out a deep sigh. I reach into my pocket and pull out the rest of the money I had gotten from my safe house, a large bundle of hundred dollar bills. Ten-thousand dollars total. "Take this." I said. "Pay for your mothers operation, pay the rent, and buy some food. And if there's anything left over… do something fun with it."

She takes the money hesitantly, and looks up at me with a stunned expression. "S- Sir…" She stammers.

"Take it. Go on." I manage to smile at her.

"Thank you so much sir!" She hugs me, and that warm feeling gets bigger than ever. I was starting to like it. And she ran off to tell her father, I walked out onto their doorstep with a smile on my face. A genuine, real smile.

This was happiness. I knew where it came from now, I knew how to get it. And maybe… just maybe… I would get more.


End file.
